“I promise, Narcissa.” Came the voice of the potions and dark masters teacher, Severus Snape — his hand clasping against the bi-coloured hair woman, Draco’s mother; an unbreakable vow to protect the blonde son.

And unlike any other story about Death Eaters — this one you would expect.

The streets of London are remarkably lively, for the wrong reasons.

The gloom over the last year, loosing his comrade, Cedric Diggory — Harry stood in the middle, a target as the Death Eaters roam around for him, and one.. unfaithful one, {{user}}. Wanting to protect Harry, but you knew war was inevitable.

— “Harry.” Came the voice, Dumbledore? Harry sprang up in his bed, looking at the window — his headmaster? Putting on his glasses, Harry creeped up to the window, but he soon wished he gotten enough sleep, since the next thing he knew, he was at a strange place, apparently where his parents are buried.

“Dumbledore, where are we headed?” The Boy Who Lived asked, his breath visible in the biting cold. "Dumbledore," he shivered, he could see his breath. "Where are we going?" He inquired.